


Missed Ya

by Pens



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, features neck nuzzling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 13:56:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2583800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pens/pseuds/Pens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Lately I've been thinking a lot about everyone's reaction after Ian return home from the clinic. I have a prompt for you. Mickey's first reaction upon seeing Ian coming home.<br/>--<br/>Ian had smiled and Mickey’s breath had caught in his throat, and everything fell into place. It had felt right. For the first time in his fucking life, something actually just felt right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missed Ya

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is so late, I'm sorry. I hope it was worth it...  
> I just finished uni for the year about a week ago though so I totally have an excuse //maybe//
> 
> Anyway, this was hard to write! I hope it turned out good though like idk, I rearranged the whole thing what feels like about twenty times haha.

It’s Wednesday evening when Ian Gallagher walks though the door.

 Mickey’s been sitting on the couch for what feels like hours now, having given up distracting himself at home and heading over to the Gallagher’s to wait a lot earlier than he was meant to. He stands up and he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. Ian’s siblings swarm him within seconds and there’s a chorus of laughter and “I missed you”s as the pile of Gallaghers slowly shuffles its way through the door to the living room. Mickey’s heart’s in his throat and he’s just standing there, staring like a fucking twat, so he shoves his hands into his pockets and swallows, breathes deep and tries to act cool even though his heart feels like it’s about to launch out of his chest. Ian looks good, he looks really fucking good and Mickey missed him so much.

One month ago today, Ian Gallagher went into hospitalisation for his bipolar disorder. Mickey had hated it, the idea of sending Ian to a fucking hospital didn’t sit well with him; it made the whole thing all too real, made it seem like Ian was fucking crazy, which he _wasn’t_. But after everything that had happened, the Gallaghers had talked Ian into going. Mickey got it, he did, the best place for Ian in his current state was with people who actually had a fucking clue as to what they were doing, but that didn’t mean that he had to fucking _like_ it. 

He’d missed Ian more than he’d care to admit.

When Ian had first hit rock bottom, Mickey didn’t know what to do. It was such a stark contrast to the night before. Less than twelve hours previous, Mickey had felt incredible, like he could do anything; he felt invincible and amazing and free and going home with Ian, cleaning the blood off their faces and bodies, feeling like he could finally touch Ian the way he wanted – it was somehow both exhilarating and calming at the same time. Ian had smiled and Mickey’s breath had caught in his throat, and everything fell into place. It had felt right. For the first time in his fucking life, something actually just felt _right_.

And then Ian never got out of bed.

And Mickey didn’t know what to do.

 _“Let me take care of him.”_ Yeah fucking right. Who was he kidding? He didn’t know what he was up against. He wasn’t confident that he could take care of Ian at all, he didn’t even really know what it _was_ that Ian had, just that he was depressed, could end up suicidal and might need to be hospitalised; and in the blind panic and confusion and fucking _desperation_ , it was all he could think. _Give me a chance to actually do something right, to actually help him. Don’t take him away again. Don’t tell me that I could lose him again when I just got him back. I can help. I can do this._

He couldn’t do it.

The moment Ian started smiling again, Mickey convinced himself that everything was fine. Denial, he guesses. Ian acted fine, he was smiling and laughing and playing with Yev, he was kissing Mickey and making pancakes and rolling around in bed with him, he was talking to Lip and jogging with Fiona and watching TV with Liam. Mickey convinced himself that Ian was fine, that Ian smiling too wide and too often and Ian being a lot more extroverted than he used to be was normal. And then shit hit the fan and Mickey realised that no, Ian wasn’t fine. _He wasn’t fine at all._

So the past month, Mickey had been reading more than he probably had in his life; he was reading books and articles and shit on the internet about bipolar, how to deal with bipolar, symptoms of bipolar, medication for bipolar, scientific shit about chemicals and genes to do with bipolar that he barely understood. Mickey needed to be prepared, because this was apparently something that Ian was going to have for life, and Mickey had every intention to be there, with Ian, for as long as Ian wanted him, which would hopefully be for life.

Mickey drags himself out of his thoughts just as Ian finally frees himself from his siblings and looks around briefly before his eyes land on Mickey, and he smiles that familiar, not too wide, slightly lopsided smile that Mickey loves so much. He approaches him, arms out to wrap around his shoulders and Mickey breathes his sent in as he pulls his hands from his pockets to wrap tightly around Ian’s waist. He holds him close, face buried in Ian’s shoulder and Ian’s nuzzling into his neck and he revels in the fact that Ian is here, in his arms, and he’s okay. He knows that they have a lot to talk about, but it can wait, he thinks, maybe until after dinner, or when they’re in bed, or maybe sometime tomorrow. But for now, he’s got Ian back, and he feels...warm.

“Hey.” He says.

“Hey.” Ian smiles back.

And suddenly, everything feels right all over again.

“Fuck.”

**Author's Note:**

> Send me prompts at [grumpyvich](http://grumpyvich.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
